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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26172166">Many More</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterfallliam/pseuds/waterfallliam'>waterfallliam</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate Atlantis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Episode Related, First Kiss, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:42:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26172166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterfallliam/pseuds/waterfallliam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate take on what could have happened in the Jumper in s05ep14 The Prodigal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rodney McKay/John Sheppard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Many More</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Alright, well, you know…” Rodney says, gaze skittering around the Jumper, looking anywhere but at John.</p><p>And it’s not alright, not remotely, not really. John knows this in a distant place inside himself.</p><p>He once knew this with all his body, with the quiet way his hands shook the first time he fired a gun and all the ragged, heaving breaths as he dragged himself across the desert in Afghanistan. The stutter snap of his heart as Todd had fed on him. The tell tale rush of adrenaline as he’d flown the Jumper at the Wraith that first time the city had been under siege, and every time he’s flown against a Hive since.</p><p>This time it’s different. Their past has come back to haunt them. Not like the Wraith they’d woken or the Replicators they’d redirected. They’d brought Michael into the world, and while his actions were his own, they loom over them like a spectre more deadly than the Wraith. War is unspeakable, but the way they suck the very life from you is something else. A life ended early is a tragedy John can understand, but the vampiric theft of what could have been leaves him feeling hollow in places he hadn’t known existed inside himself. Sometimes he still feels the cruel grip of Todd’s palm against his chest; relives it in sleep, the pain men have begged for death to avoid. In the face of that, their experiment had seemed so simple, so right.</p><p>But it wasn’t. War and survival both mean hard choices, but Michael had only become one of those after they had created him. If they had been accused solely of that crime, the federation tribunal should have found them guilty. Responsibility is why he’s here again, ready to fly into danger.</p><p>As Rodney reaches out his hand, eyes so sincere and kind, affectionate even, John thinks there’s something else that haunts him. Something he rarely lets himself examine.</p><p>It’s all the near misses where he’s bitten his tongue and listened to the lies he tells himself. That it wouldn’t matter, not for the two seconds they’d have if they don’t make it. And if they do, that his words would ruin everything. It’s every time he’s held Rodney out of danger and let him go again. Every time he swallows his own heart when Rodney doesn’t answer his radio, or doesn’t make the rendezvous, is captured, injured, possibly dying. It’s that John hasn’t said anything as he’s watched Rodney fall in and out of love with women and men. Cowardly isn’t a word anyone would dare use to describe <em>big damn hero Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard</em>, except John himself.</p><p>Rodney exhales. Smiles. “Here’s to many more.”</p><p>This time, John clasps Rodney hand with his own, his grip reluctant and weak. Then Rodney’s smile widens, his gaze softening with something that makes John’s chest ache. These days, the prospect of another suicide mission awakens nothing more than the perfunctory buzz of adrenaline under his skin, but when Rodney looks at him <em>like that</em> he’s stripped back, years of muscle memory and experience that prop him up disintegrating. He tightens his grip, unwilling to let go.</p><p>Rodney doesn’t step back or release his hand when John stands. The lights on the console throb and the self destruct counts down. John’s mind is telling him to sit down again, to shoo Rodney out of the Jumper and fly before it’s too late. But his gut overrides his head. He has time. There’s something he has to do first.</p><p>John touches Rodney’s face with his free hand, the pad of his thumb memorising the delicate skin beneath his eyes. His fingers curl around his jaw, feeling Rodney’s shallow gasp before he sees it. John slots their mouths together, the gap just right for him to take Rodney’s bottom lip between his own.</p><p>His neck is at an awkward angle and there isn’t any time, but his lips trace the slant of Rodney’s mouth as his hand twists in Rodney’s, transforming the casual press of palms into mess of tangled and twisted fingers. All the dreams he’s had of their first kiss fade away like the crackle and pop of background static. Reality is so much more demanding, especially when for all of John’s soft coaxing, Rodney has gone completely still against him.</p><p>Even if Rodney doesn’t kiss him back, trying has to be worth it. At the very least it’s nice to have believed for a few seconds that Rodney could want this,too.</p><p>John hears the whine in his own throat as he pulls back.</p><p>Strangely, he feels no resentment. Rodney is frozen, unmoving. Yet warmth is trickling through John, relaxing his muscles with the knowledge that if he is to die, he has done so in sync with himself. He has lived his truth.</p><p>There isn’t much that can render Rodney speechless, and if he’d done almost anything else John would be proud of the fact. Smug, even. Instead he lets his hands drop. The mission is waiting, every life in the city depending upon him.</p><p>As he turns away, Rodney pulls him back, hands shifting to grab at his tac vest. “You bastard,” Rodney groans.</p><p>Then Rodney’s kissing him, sloppy and enthusiastic. He pulls John this way and that, as if indecisive about what the best thing to try first is, mouth hot against John's as he fidgets.</p><p>John curls his hand around the back of Rodney’s neck and slows their movement, letting Rodney take control again once their pace is nice and slow, their noses no longer bumping and squishing awkwardly.</p><p>John’s more than happy to let Rodney take point on this, he’s an excellent kisser. Hands around his biceps hold John close as if he’s precious. Lips travel along his jaw and up his cheek, desperate as they reach his mouth again. He feels all of Rodney’s unspoken words pressed into the kiss, their breadth and weigh barely contained as John races to keep up. It should feel overwhelming and bruising, but Rodney’s been challenging him to keep up since they first met.</p><p>“You better come back,” Rodney says, ragged as they break apart. “You come back so we can have many more of those, too.”</p><p>“Just kisses?” John glances up at Rodney as he sits back down at the console. Winks.</p><p>“You—!” Rodney’s radio crackles, interrupting whatever he was going to say before he has the chance to begin.</p><p> </p>
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